During the Great Depression, with money scarce and the
living anything but easy, hardworking people sought ways
to add to meager incomes. I remember my father packing up
his fiddle in its battered black case and heading out to
play at a country dance. With faithful old Dollie and
Robin hitched to the wagon or sleigh, he would take off to
pick up neighbors with guitars, accordions and banjos.
Many of the dances took place in local halls or schools.
Sometimes the musicians had to leave home after an early
supper to travel to a dance ten or twenty miles away. Dad
would return, nodding off on the wagon seat, as the
morning sun gilded the barn roof. He would unhitch and
feed his tired horses, then drag himself into the house on
weary feet, take his fiddle from its case and hang it on
the wall beside his rocking chair. After he handed
Mother the dollar or two he had earned from his night's
labor, he was off to the barn to milk the cows.
Mother and I often accompanied Dad to nearby dances.
These were truly family affairs, attended by everyone from
babes in arms to their octogenarian grandparents. When
the guitars tuned up and Dad tucked his old fiddle under
his chin, people of all ages streamed onto the dance
floor. I don't know which I learned first--how to walk or
how to waltz. I'll never forget that shiver of delight I
experienced when Dad's bow touched the strings.
Neighbors took advantage of these get-togethers to visit
and admire the new babies. There was ample opportunity
for farmers to trade equipment or marshal help for a barn
raising. When the ladies weren't dancing, they picked up
their knitting or embroidery, their hands seldom idle as
they traded recipes and gossip with neighbors they hadn't
seen for weeks.
At midnight, the dancing came to a halt for a potluck
lunch of sandwiches prepared from home-baked bread,
frosted cakes and freshly baked cookies, washed down with
aromatic hot coffee. The musicians and the dancers
welcomed the refreshing break. By one a.m., with the
leftover food packed away in boxes to take back home and
the floor swept and dusted with fresh wax, the dancing
began again and continued until three or four in the
morning.
As the youngsters grew weary and small eyelids began to
droop, they retired to piles of soft coats in the
cloakroom where they slept soundly. Grandmas, grandpas,
and even parents moved back into the corners to visit,
doze, or nod to the music as the younger people took over
the dance floor. Many future marriages began as young
